Howling. Yipping and barking. I wake. Coyotes seeming to be just outside my bedroom window on a clear mid-March night. Yet another odd winter has come to a close and spring is now official. A brief stay of cold on this day. The weather will soon warm. Flowers daring to appear. Stems only. This is Vermont after all …
The artistic influence of a shift in season permeates my studio. A predictor of paintings to come as I set out my palette. Reaching for bolder colors when neutrals once dominated. Deep purple, lavender, and cobalt blue. Umber and sepia are now afterthoughts. A subconscious seasonal indicator as I sort through the many colors.
A certain freedom synonymous with warming temps’ and casual days creeps into my creative thought process. The influence of color. Bold color. Expression that is powerfully hopeful. I take a moment to view my new pieces that are drying on the wooden lip. One sitting on my easel unfinished. I have continued to think about the direction for this painting since I left my easel yesterday. A bold abstract sunflower, deeply saturated orangey pink, and red barns. A tripping brook more fantastical than realistic. The choices feel right. I long for a glimmer of hope.
Renewal is the responsibility of spring. The daffodils and crocuses cannot arrive soon enough and while I bide my time, I will dream on canvas. Hope may need to be manufactured until the world finally blooms respecting the want of spring…
Daffodil’s Return
by Bliss Carman
What matter if the sun be lost?
What matter though the sky be gray?
There’s joy enough about the house,
For Daffodil comes home to-day.
There’s news of swallows on the air,
There’s word of April on the way,
They’re calling flowers within the street,
And Daffodil comes home to-day.
O who would care what fate may bring,
Or what the years may take away!
There’s life enough within the hour,
For Daffodil comes home to-day.
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